


Like You'll Never See Me Again

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Late at Night, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer and Elle talking - and doing other things - in his apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like You'll Never See Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> I was torn between listening to Rihanna's Stay and Alicia Keys' song of the title here, and this is what I picked and what came of it.

"You know I didn't ask you to brace Hotch."

"I know."

Elle and Spencer went out for Indian food after leaving the building, and they talked about inconsequential things over dinner. He seemed preoccupied, lost in thought, and she was reluctant to press him. It was fully dark when he unlocked the apartment, and she turned on a couple of lamps. When he spoke, she turned to face him. He looked bemused, as though he was still trying to figure something out.

"I'd have done it even if you'd asked me not to," she told him, and his mouth lifted at one corner. It probably shouldn't have touched him, but it did. That she would come from Dallas, putting her life on hold, then face something that probably still troubled her, made him appreciate her even more than usual. She'd had his back, and it meant a lot to him.

"Are you...are you okay? Not too shaky?"

Elle shrugged a little, but inwardly she knew she'd taken a few slow breaths before stepping into Hotch's office. It was like the first time you found out that your parents weren't perfect, that they could make mistakes and screw up just like everyone else. She should have grown past that, being able to be disappointed. A watch check said that it was nearly eleven, and she covered a yawn. Spencer chuckled.

"You about ready for bed?"

The brunette looked at the sofa, where she'd been sleeping instead of in the bed. To keep things from getting muddled. This wasn't really a pleasure trip for her, and she couldn't stay for more than a few days. The job in Texas involved running down people who'd skipped out on their bail, and she was good at it. It wasn't as things had been, but it was close enough.

Spencer watched her look at the couch, and it crossed his mind that he could ask her to join him in the bedroom and she'd agree. They'd been sleeping together off and on since she'd resigned, and if he was honest with himself he could have used the physical contact. But broaching the subject would, in a way, be putting expectations on her, and he didn't want to do that. It wasn't her responsibility to comfort his body.

Elle turned, caught the slightly wistful look on his face, and she covered the smile by smoothing out the light blanket Spencer had brought out for her. Some of that awkwardness, that shyness, still remained, but she'd seen his confidence grow over the years. He'd schooled his expression into neutrality when she looked back, and she said, "C'mere. I'm gonna take a shower, then hit the sack, but I want a hug first."

The profiler put his arms around her, and she'd gained a bit of weight, felt more solid in his arms. He tucked his chin over her shoulder so she couldn't see his expression. Closed his eyes. He was remembering how nervous he'd been that first time, how trembly. She was going back to Dallas in two days, and the paths of their jobs seldom crossed.

Elle's cheekbone was pressed to the spot above Spencer's heart, and she was listening to the steady _thump-thump_ beneath his ribs. When Aaron had asked her if she'd told Reid why she'd done what she'd done, she'd reluctantly thought about it, and the only thing she'd been able to come up with was that she didn't want him to think less of her. Or to think that she was still out of control. She'd walked to the edge, then fought her way back, but it had been a struggle. Her arms tightened, then relaxed.

"Ask me, Spencer." Her forehead was pressed against his crisp shirt so that he couldn't see her expression. Because why should she deny herself knowing if the answer would be yes or no? Life could be short, and worse, it could be cold.

He turned his head slightly, kissed her temple through her hair, and to his surprise he felt her quiver. His hands spread out on her back, and she leaned into him more fully. "Elle?" Her name was a question in itself, but he knew it wasn't the one she wanted him to ask.

"Would you like to go to bed with me?"

She took a quarter step away, offered him her hand, and he took it. He turned one of the lamps off before they made their way down the hall, and Elle felt coltish in the face of his surety. He clicked on the light in his room, and she went to pull her T shirt off. Spencer shook his head.

"Let me do it."

Elle's hands fell to her sides after a moment, and he slipped his hands beneath the cloth to touch warm skin. Her bra was black under the green shirt. He crouched in front of her, and his lips brushed the healed scar. Her eyes were closed, and she braced her palms on his shoulders.

"You're gorgeous."

He got up, undid the button on her jeans, then tugged down the zipper. It was a reversal of roles, and she let out a shivery moan when he kissed her left shoulder. When he had her down to her underwear, he tugged her over to the bed, and her thighs broke out in goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips. Her hair fanned out behind her head, dark against the white pillowcase. She was biting her lower lip.

Elle's eyes were warm on Spencer as he peeled off his shirt, then discarded his khakis. He knew that there might come a time when this ended, when one of them drifted away or found someone new. But for now, she was his and he was hers, and so he was going to love her as if he'd never see her again. 

Her skin was warm against his when he returned to the bed, and he kissed her mouth slowly while she threaded her fingers into his hair. She'd been the one to guide him before, and he was taking the lead now. The light was dim, but not so dim that he couldn't see her expression, the wary tenderness. He imagined that the look on his face was much the same. He wasn't afraid to care for her, if only because she practically dared him to. Being naked with her, between her thighs as he guided his cock inside her, had him simultaneously dizzy and utterly stable.

Elle let out another shaky noise, and she didn't love him. She _didn't_. But then again, maybe she did. Just a little, just enough that he could break her heart. She wondered if he ever blamed himself for not being able to put her fully back together, for what she'd done when she pulled that trigger. But her brain was shutting down, thought abandoning ship, because the muscles in his back were working underneath her hands and maybe she'd taught him a little too well as to how to make her thrash beneath him. She dragged the edges of her teeth over the point of his shoulder. He laughed, a tense sound, then nipped at her ear.

"Spencer..."

He was moving slow, pushing deep, and all she could do was move. That damned eidetic memory was going to be the death of her. If she was that lucky. Elle looked up into Spencer's face, and his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw taut with effort. She lifted her hips into his insistently. Dimly, she heard the headboard hit the wall once, then twice.

He felt her come, the squeeze of her inner muscles around his cock, and he was only a breath behind her when he finished. His belly was slick with sweat, and he had his mouth against the side of her neck, lips fluttering against her thrumming pulse point. He finally raised his head, then put his brow against hers.

His pupils were still blown, and she gave him a smile that was born sated and hesitant. _Tell me you love me._ The thought was both unbidden and not entirely welcome, but Elle kept looking up at him. The fingers of her right hand trailed through the perspiration gathered at the small of Spencer's back.

He looked at her searchingly, trying to read her expression in the light from the single lamp. _Say something, you idiot!_ After a long, **long** minute, he put his mouth against the shell of her ear, and when his lips moved, she felt the shape of the word even though it wasn't audible. 

Love.

Elle held him against her, and the index finger of her left hand traced a design on his shoulderblade. Spencer, she had discovered through trial and error, was very sensitive to touch right after sex, and when he kissed the side of her neck she knew he'd recognized the invisible heart she'd just drawn.

Because she did love him after all. Loved him enough.


End file.
